


Omnius Chronicles: Zero

by AnIdiotOfYourOwn



Category: Original Work
Genre: 6d Chess, Angst, Canon Trans Characters, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Existentialism, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26378740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnIdiotOfYourOwn/pseuds/AnIdiotOfYourOwn
Summary: Space Fantasy Anthology following the lives of a group of assholes one year before their lives will change forever.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character(s)/Original Non-Binary Character(s), Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 1





	1. Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, if you’re reading this, thank you! This is the first original work I’ve ever made so it may be a little rough around the edges.

Exorvius: A harsh planet full of lush, dangerous forests and massive swathes of desert. The exotic creatures that lurk in the many cracks and crevices of this biome-diverse corner of the galaxy could kill most travelers in less time than it would take to scream a simple one-syllable profanity. That, however, is not why people are drawn to Exorvius. They come for the planet’s capital city of Vontaine: a massive city that sits at the heart of some of the most impressive technological advancements in the known universe, most of which are made with the aid of the planet’s vast array of natural resources. 

In the center of this glorious beacon for advancement, there lies the HavenCorp Tower. There lives practically no intelligent being in the galaxy that does not know and respect the HavenCorp business, and the center of all their practices happen here in their primary tower in Vontaine. Given the amount of research of the utmost importance that goes down in this building, security is tighter than a prostitute’s bra after a particularly successful night. Walking through the front door without permission, let alone breaking in, would be effectively impossible. 

——————

A crash followed by a thud. That’s the last thing Chief Security Officer Bridge hears before his neck is snapped so suddenly no amount of medical prowess could feasibly reverse. Security cameras pan over to the body. The security officer monitoring the cameras pales and clicks furiously through cameras to find the perpetrator. He won’t find anyone in time to stop an invisible figure from sneaking into the room and. . . dispatching of another obstacle. Two more bodies drop outside the door to Special Projects. Three scientists neutralized inside. Most secure building on the planet and someone’s somehow managed to break into the most secure area. 

Chris Ryker is feeling pretty damn good. He’s not in the business of bragging but holding the only known Quantum Destabilizer in Exorvius gives him perhaps no better excuse to bend his rules. The feeling of pride is almost comically brief though. Almost right after acquiring the target, alarms blare presumably throughout the entire building. Chris has but a few precious moments before he has guards so far up his ass they could tell him what he had for dinner. He has enough time to loose his saber from his back and a smoke grenade from his belt before guards are busting down the door. 

The first guard has hardly breached the door before the whole room and connecting hallway are consumed in smoke. It’s but a few more seconds afterwards that a dozen highly trained guards have been butchered in ways that would leave a grown man with a sickened stomach. Chris is down the hall and out of his stealth suit in a matter of moments, readjusting his crisp white button-up as he does. While alarms blare around him, and guards most assuredly close in on his location, he located the nearest elevator and calls for a lift. 

Dr. Anaya Gregory has witnessed quite a great deal of shocking sites in her life, but a young man with shock white hair, dressed in business casual attire, and holding a katana dripping blood is easily the most alarming one. Before she can process the man enough to close the door, he’s slid in and pressed the button for the top floor. 

“Beautiful evening, wouldn’t you say?” He asks, so casual it’s obnoxious. She’d scoff if, you know, he wasn’t holding a sword and alarms weren’t blaring. 

“I. . .I suppose so, yes.” She says carefully. She tries with all her might not to look at his weapon, but as it turns out this is one of those times where the more you try not to look the more you want to. 

Chris notices the attention and smiles. Not a kind smile, but not an entirely cruel one either. “Nice, isn’t it? Cost no small amount of money to acquire.” He readjusts his grip on the handle. 

Before Anaya can formulate a response, the doors open, revealing a whole room full of guards. Chris kicks her out of the way and lunges out into the room. Before he can even make it halfway to the first guard though, gun shots ring out and every guard falls dead. 

Chris almost winces not at the shooting, but at the individual doing the shooting. A hooded, masked figure stands at the far end of the area, casually tossing an assault rifle to the side and gripping a sonic bat in both hands. Chris sighs and draws up his blade. 

“Let’s get on with it, I have more pressing things to attend to then mute lunatics.” Chris says disinterestedly. 

The figure momentarily lifts one hand from the bat to sign “Nah. Also, lunatic? Kinda uncreative tbh.”

Chris rolls his eyes and engages. It's almost unfortunate no one’s lived to hear the sound of a sonic bat colliding with a Cervian Katana. One, the peak of a very specific form of sonic technology, capable of knocking down the most massive of trees with built up kinetic energy. The other forged from one of the metals most impervious to damage in the galaxy, specifically built to absorb kinetic energy. The created collision is a quintessential “unstoppable force meets immovable object” scenario. All the windows throughout the entire floor are shattered instantly from the shockwave, and lesser individuals would have also been knocked back several yards by the force. As it is, the two agents are simply forced back a couple feet. 

Chris winces and rolls on the balls of his feet. Parker Quinn: asshole seems to always be in the most inconvenient of places, which right now happens to be right in front of him. And, by “right in front of him” Chris means currently coming at him with a baseball bat. He dodges under the first swing, pulling his sword up to plunge down into the assailant’s back. Before he can, hood person swings their bat behind them and blocks, knocking his sword away. 

Parker spins around while spinning their bat and brings it down for a vertical swing on Chris. Chris blocks it and hits Parker with the hilt of his blade, but before he can make another move, Parker slams the tip of their bat into his gut, sending Chris on his back by the edge of the floor. He groans, shifting on the ground, and wincing at the sound of splintering glass under him. The cold wind outside whips at his hair. Parker struts up to him, a smile obvious from the way their dimples show under the mask. 

“Give me the destabilizer and we can finally have tea like you’ve been suggesting, even though I don’t actually know what tea is.” They sign, resting the end of their bat on Chris’s chest. 

“See, I’d really love to do that, except for the unfortunate complication that I personally find you unbearable and want nothing to do with you.” With Parker’s feelings assuredly hurt, Chris resorts to using that which he put his neck on the line to acquire, using the activator on the Quantum Destabilizer. 

Time itself seems to crawl to a standstill around Chris. Ripples of raw energy exude from the device. Reality itself seems to warp around him, and then, with little fanfare, Chris disappears, space folding around him and transporting him somewhere far more ideal. In the blink of an eye, Parker goes from having the high ground finally to right back at square one with no explanation and no bounty. 

——————

Parker sighs as they slink through the shadows back to their apartment. Not a great night, but there will hopefully be better in the future. As the door to their flat slides open, they take note of the state of the place. It’s admittedly not the worst one could hope for from a moderately inexpensive place, with a small, decently stocked kitchen connected to a cramped but comfortable living room, with a worn couch and an old but functional tv. A hall directly across from the door leads to two bedrooms. Given the relative slum nature of this side of the city, with its tendency towards gang wars and illicit business practices, they certainly could have done worse both in the apartment and roommate arenas. 

Speaking of which, the tell-tale clicking of keys on a datapad indicates said roommate is still up. The door slides shut behind Parker and they slowly remove their equipment, storing it in “Combat Cubby.” 

“You look like shit.” Yes, thank you roommate, very much appreciate that comment. Parker indicates as much with a. . .particularly rude hand gesture, and walks over to the kitchen, perusing the fridge for anything of the edible variety, narcotics not unwelcomed either. Oh hell yes, pizza. 

Roommate looks up from whatever exactly their work is and glances up at Parker. “Work that bad, huh?”

Parker only nods as they slide down onto the couch, prize in hand, opposite their roommate. Optimism in this city is hard enough without dwelling on failures. This has been one of a not insignificant list of botched missions and cut payments, and they both know this. 

Roommate sighs. “If it’s any consolation, I recorded some sucky old earth movies to watch and mock if you want.”

The olive branch is clear in nature, but kindness from this particular individual isn’t a very common occurrence, so they gladly accept and waste the next several hours watching bad movies like some sort of idyllic family. 

While this is happening, on the opposite side of the city, in a far more luxurious, yet somehow more dangerous area, another individual returns home, but this one from a notably more successful mission. Chris Ryker sighs contentedly as he enters his very well-equipped flat, surveying the state-of-the-line appliances stocking his place of residence. The life of a high-class mercenary is a dangerous but well-paying one, which is a risk-reward ratio Chris can live with. As he walks into his comfortable habitat, he sets the reward of his efforts on his kitchen counter. 

The Quantum Destabilizer. The most secret of HaveCorp Special Projects. The exact nature and capabilities of the device are yet unknown, but if that “test” was anything to go by, this may prove to be one of the most valuable steals of Chris’s already profitable career, which is admittedly fairly ironic considering this wasn’t even something he was paid to obtain. 

Chris opens a drawer and pulls out a less than inexpensive wine, popping in the cap on it. 

“Cheers to your most successful steal yet, Mr Ryker.” He toasts himself. As he begins on a well-earned drink in his eyes, he makes a relatively important call. 

“Ah, yes, hello. No, don’t hang up just yet, I believe I may have something that could be of mutual benefit to the both of us.”


	2. Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Hunter Parks had a dollar for every time his ship was falling apart, he could actually afford to fix the damn thing.

Bright flashes of pure energy wiz by noiselessly in the vast emptiness of space. Around you, your ship groans in protest as you push it to its limits. You seriously should’ve considered investing in repairs at the last starport, but that’s the least of your concerns right now. No, currently all you’re really worried about is that damned mercenary that won’t get off your tail. The ship rocks violently as, in the solitary moment of distraction while you try dealing with the dozen other issues you have, said mercenary landed a perfect shot on one of your primary thrusters. Alarms blare as red lights flash around you. Last time you try fixing your shields by yourself, you swear to god. Beads of sweat drip down your cheeks as you run through every possible way you could get out of this, but the mercenary shows no signs of slowing down. 

“Ship’s shields at 8%.” The ship’s ai warns over the alarms. 

“I know, Sasha.” You say, trying to keep the ship at least one piece. 

“The thrusters are heavily damaged.”

“I know, Sasha.”

“You probably have about six minutes before the ship suffers a full system shutdown.”

“Sasha, how about instead of telling me how royally screwed we are, you set a course for the Axion starport on Anveria, activate emergency thrusters, and sync the LDE to the hyperlight engine.” The ship rattles and you jolt to the side, narrowly avoiding a flash of red energy. 

“The Axion port? We’ll never make it through the planet’s atmosphere.”

“Then we warp inside the atmosphere.”

“The ship won’t be able to slow down in time to land without casualties.” 

“Sasha, I am all ears to whatever alternative you have because right now, all I’m seeing is this or a rapidly-approaching one-way ticket to the void of space.” You grit your teeth in a grim effort to steel your nerves. 

“...hyperlight engine and emergency thruster being synced to the LDE.”

“Alright, on my mark, prepare to fire all prepared systems.” You aren’t one to pray, but this is a uniquely stupid situation where you feel it fitting. On the bright side, you’ve never gotten to try this before so if nothing else, you’ll go out trying something new. 

“Three,” you flip a handful of switches, apologizing profusely to the ship. “Two,” in the rear-facing camera miraculously still functioning, you see the mercenary ship behind you preparing a really damn big cannon. “One!” And you’re thrown against your seat at the sheer force of entering hyperlight travel. The ship rumbles in protest...or the entire back end just fell off. One or the other. 

Well, the good news is the ship survives hyperlight travel. The bad news is the moment you come out the other end inside the atmosphere of Anveria, another alarm goes off indicating your...oh you’ve gotta be kidding. The thrusters fell off. All of them. Apparently you miscalculated the force of entering the atmosphere of a planet from hyperlight. 

“I told you so.”

“Shut up and reroute all power to the glide systems!” Ohhh this is bad. 

There’s something incredibly jarring about the plunge in your stomach as the ship changes from thrusters to only depending on wings for flight. Your already vaguely unresponsive flight controls are even more stubborn now, and it takes a force of will you forgot you had to keep the blasted thing in the air. You at least aren’t plummeting to the ground yet, but are more so gliding very aggressively in the direction of the surface. It's a small distinction but it matters to you. 

“We’re getting awful close to the port, Hunter.” 

“Really? Are we? I couldn’t tell.” You deadpan. She is right, of course. And you’re not exactly slowing down. 

“Do we still have parachutes?”

“No, they were never restocked after last time.”

“Oh course they weren’t. Alright, how high are the shields?”

“Three percent?”

Your eye twitches and your hands shake. “Direct all shielding to the front.”

The next couple seconds leading into the star port are the most tense of the week. On the one hand, the hangar bay is wide and high, but it's so full of ships a straight shot is almost impossible. You jiggle the controls in a last ditch effort to angle the ship in a way to not get yourself or everyone else killed. The landing gears are immediately torn off on landing. The next moment feels like being in a washing machine in a tornado. By the time you stop spinning, the ship is sitting against the back wall of the starport hanger. Looking around, it appears that other than minor cosmetic damage, you managed to miss most of the other ships. You lean back in the pilot’s seat and sigh, feeling your whole body decompress. 

“All things considered, we've had worse landings.”

Exiting the ship is slightly more challenging than ideal, given you’re fairly certain the exit ramp is entirely broken, so you end up leaving through the cockpit’s viewport. The moment you make connection with solid ground, your face almost becomes very good friends with a very metal wrench.

“You bastard!” A short, dark-skinned woman comes storming up to you. 

You wince. “Look, Carmen, I would’ve warned you if I could, but I was a little preoccupied.”

When she’s within a few inches of you, she points an accusatory finger up at you. “Eu te disse que se você batesse essa porcaria de nave no meu porto de novo, a tua direção de merda seria o menor dos teus problemas!”

“Hey, this isn’t my fault!” you tuck a loose lock of hair behind your ear, flicking away a piece of glass in the process.

“I don’t wanna hear it, Parks!” She shouts as she moves past you and inspects the ship. “What idiots have you started trouble with now? Gods, are those ion cannon marks?”

You sigh and follow her around to the other end of the ship. As you do, you take a moment to glance out the hangar bay of the Axion starport and into the city proper. Axion is a fairly busy port city on Anveria, and is responsible for most of the business in this sector. It’s also particularly popular amongst tourists, and you have been meaning to properly explore it at some point. If you weren’t always almost dying, that is. 

“Parks, you owe me big time if you expect me to fix all this.” She gestures to, well, the entire ship. And you can’t blame her honestly. “Missing thrusters, wings barely intact, ruined landing gears, panelling completely torn off, with the wiring all visible underneath; and this is just what I can see out here, I’m sure you did even more damage inside. I swear, if you hurt Sasha-”

“Sasha’s fine, just moderately...concerned.”

“Concerned, my ass.” She lets out a frustrated sigh. “Give me four days. In the meantime, for the love of all the gods don’t start more trouble.”

You nod and start walking towards an exit. “Thanks, Carmen, I owe you one.”

“You owe me several!”

\-------------

The first place you decide to go is the Axion city square, a large open plaza surrounded on all sides by massive skyscrapers and, closer to ground level, shops selling all varieties of wares and goods. It’s all well and lovely until you’ve been shot.

You know how it goes, one moment you’re casually pursuing what the city has to offer, occasionally glancing up at holographic billboards advertising whatever product is “in” right now, and the next you’re lying on the ground wondering why you keep forgetting your army on the ship. It understandably takes a hot sec for you to reground yourself and get your bearings, and look past the screaming civilians, scanning for who the hell shot you and...oh you’ve got to be joking. Strutting towards you is the most obnoxiously dressed man you’ve ever had the misfortune of seeing. Wearing a turquoise overcoat, pink vest, and neon yellow button-up, with shock blue hair and the grin of a slightly drunk shark, and holding an all-gold pistol, you honestly think you might’ve already died and gone to hell and this is your personal demon. 

You’re still to incapacitated from a shot straight through the shoulder to move before he approaches and squats down before you. “Parks, you know this could’ve been a lot simpler if you just died in space, but nooo, you had to go and pull the sexiest stunt I’ve seen all solar sweep and make it to the surface. Do you know how much landing fees cost in this city?”

“Like hell you actually pay the landing fee.” Blood drips from your lip but it’s worth it...maybe.

He snorts at that, spinning his gun around in his hand. “You’re not wrong. What I probably should’ve said is do you know how hard it is to dispose of three bodies?”

“Erin Ito, you are literally the worst.” You honestly don’t remember what his last name is, but who even cares? The dude sucks either way. 

“Namecalling, Parks? I thought that was below you.” He tsks dramatically.

“I’ve recently taken up digging as a hobby, actually.”

“Really? Well that would explain how jacked you’ve gotten since last time.”

“You think so? Personally I think it’s this new diet I’ve been trying.”

“What’s it called? I’ve been meaning to diet recently.”

“It’s called shut the hell up.” And you pull a taser from your jacket pocket and jam it into his knee before he can react, pushing yourself up as you do. 

“Both of you freeze!” Before you can even think to leave, the both of you are surrounded on all sides by heavily-armed guards. As it turns out, the two of you may have caused a bit of a commotion. At least Erin thinks this is hilarious, if his elated, if also slightly pained, laughing is anything to go by.

Your only reaction is putting your head in your hand and letting out a long “Shiiiiit.” Your roommate is gonna hold this over your head forever.


	3. Phantoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake Horowitz is getting really sick of this fruity asshole interrupting all his bounties.

Alex Garcia is having possibly the best day of his life, which is saying very little if you’re just going by his relative youth of 25, but says a great deal more if you take into consideration the downright abysmal life expectancy of people on his side of town in Vontaine. Not to say Alex has an unhappy life, I mean what isn’t to love about a life wholly built on how competently you can trick people into trusting you? Not fucking much, Alex is sure you’ll agree. Alex is aware of the absurdity of thinking in third person as though others can detect his thoughts, but when money is scarce you have to find some way to stay entertained. 

Oh right, sorry, he got a bit side-tracked there, he supposes. What was he doing? Oh yeah, just reveling in easily the coolest steal ever. Hopping across rooftops in the less fortunate side of the mega-city, Alex looks down at his hand, where he had clutched in his palm a small disk painted black and red. Supposedly, this disk has a chip that unlocks any piece of technology one could get their hands on. So many animes to steal, Alex thinks with much anticipation. Unfortunately, Alex is jolted rather abruptly from his rapidly expanding list of things to “borrow” by a shock of raw kinetic energy that could only come from a force rifle and is sent skidding along the surface of an unfortunately jagged roof. 

“Y’know Alex, I’m almost starting to feel bad about how often we meet like this.” And standing opposed to Alex on the roof is Jake Whore-owitz. That’s not his actual name. Nor is he either certain that Jake is a whore, hell the dude’s probably a prude, or even if his last name is Horowitz, but in Alex’s defense it’s kinda hard to think through what Alex is fairly certain is a concussion. Either way, dude’s kinda an asshole. Really unfortunate because goddamn can he get it, if you know what he means. I’m ashamed of you if you do. 

Alex spits and is only vaguely concerned by the fact blood actually came out. “I dunno what you’re talkin’ about man, I can’t think of any better way for us to meet. Like I mean, sure we could just do speed dating or something like normal adults looking to hook up, but last time I tried that I ended up with this guy that like seriously reeked of fish and I just wasn’t down for that.” This is a lie. Alex absolutely hooked up with a fish man. It wasn’t the most pleasant of nights but it was at least a decent distraction. 

“Oh my god somehow you ruin taunts. How do you do that and can you please just let me gloat this once?” Jake asks, wincing in physical pain at the sheer weight of Alex’s idiocy. Alex stands by his belief in Jake’s attractiveness as he berates Alex for not letting him insult Alex to his face. What can Alex say? Leather jackets and messy hair are kinda his type. Or at least two of them. 

“What can I say? I can’t stop talking around absolute snacks.” Alex says, catching his breath before pushing himself up onto his feet and putting his hands in possibly the most pathetic excuse for a guard stance ever seen. 

“Wh-what are you doing?” Jake asks, actually so taken aback he doesn’t comment on possibly the most infuriatingly shitty pick-up like Alex has used on him. 

“What does it look like? I’m putting up my dukes, dog.”

\--------------------

Jake really just wanted a simple mission. Which is what this was supposed to be. Break into a corporate facility, steal some concept tech, and gtfo. But of course this idiot is here too. Jake is so fucking sick of this dude. He’s sick of the way he won’t shut up, and the way he’s always where Jake doesn’t want him to be, and the way he’s way too damn attractive for his own good in a fucking ratty-ass hoodie and jeans. 

Looking over at Alex, Jake is struck with something almost resembling pity. Alex looks like he hasn’t bathed in weeks, judging by the knotted look of his ponytail, or the stains of gross fluid on his hoodie, or the weird film coating his skin that seems to glisten when the moon hits just right. Point is, dude needs help. Especially if he calls raising your arms to vaguely cover your face ‘putting up your dukes.’

Jake sighs and discards his force rifle. “Alex, don’t make this stupider than it has to be, just hand over the disc and we can both go our separate ways.” 

“And just give up all the rich assholes I can screw over with this thing? C’mon dude you know me better than that.” Alex flips the disc in the air, letting it land in his palm before pocketing it. 

“We aren’t friends, we aren’t even acquaintances. The most we are is two people who keep going after the same things.”

“Oh come on, you gotta remember Zalibon, right?” Alex asks innocently, and Jake feels his breath catch and his heart slow to the point he can barely hear it.

He slowly raises his fists to guard position. “The hell’d you just say?”

“Dude I’m almost offended you keep going on about how we ‘don’t know each other’ or ‘aren’t friends’ after that.” Alex continues, seemingly unphased by Jake’s reaction. Maybe he just hasn’t noticed. 

Jake rushes Alex, preparing to connect his fist with Alex’s jaw. Alex dodges out of the way, almost moving like water as he moves to Jake’s left and brings his right leg up to kick down into Jake’s exposed back. Jake rolls forward at the last second, narrowly avoiding Alex’s boot. At the end of that roll he leaps to his feet, bringing his guard up and launching his left fist again at Alex’s face. This time, Alex straight blocks the blow, sliding inside Jake’s defenses and suckerpunching him in the gut. Jake reels back slightly and pulls a taser rod from his jacket pocket, before going back at it. Jake makes a couple wide swings at Alex, which he effortlessly dodges of course, which Alex feels he’s taking advantage of by aiming high with another blow. Unfortunately, Jake was doing this on purpose, and ducks under Alex’s fist, jamming the taser into his inner left thigh. Alex goes down unimpressively. Right as Jake is kneeling down over Alex, prepped to take the disc and go, he feels a sharp pain in his back and collapses to the ground. As his vision goes blurry, he sees large figures in sleek black body armor come up and begin handcuffing the two of them. 

\--------------------

Everything hurts. This is Alex’s most astute observation when consciousness greets him with a baseball bat. His head is buzzing, his whole body is sore, and he’s pretty sure he’s still got a concussion from eating it earlier. Speaking of, where is he and what the hell happened? The last thing he remembers was formulating a brilliant one-liner while Jake was topping him, before something happened and he blacked out. 

Alex blinks several times, trying to regain usage of his eyes. After a couple seconds his vision properly returns and he can properly assess where he is. It would appear that he’s in the most nondescript prison cell on the face of the earth. The walls are a dark metallic grey, which makes sense since they appear to be metal. Other than two beds on opposite sides of the room, the only other things in here are Alex, and a still unconscious Jake. Light seems to be coming from somewhere but Alex for the life of him can’t tell where. 

Jake growns, slightly startling Alex. “Oh god, what happened?”

“Morning sleeping beauty, looks like we booked an overnight stay in the Doghouse.”

Jake groans again. “I hate you. I hate you so much. You just had to give me the disc, you asshole.”

“Why do people keep saying that.” Alex wonders aloud.

“Which part?”

“Oh, the disc part. I keep stealing Hunter’s shit. Parker lets me in. You remember Parker and Hunter right? Anyway, I haven’t seen either of them for a while so it’s been a bit since someone’s complained about my disc-stealing habits.”

“You are my personal hell. How has no one killed you yet.”

Before Alex responds with something we can all agree would have been very funny and clever, the wall to Alex’s left hums, and a chunk of it slides open to effectively create a doorway. Out of it steps a man clad in black armor. His hair is cut close, and his jaw juts out like the mast of a ship. Looks exactly like the kinda dude to work for a secret police, or whatever the hell this is. 

“Mr Garcia, Mr Horowitz, you’re both in luck. You have a chance to completely clear your names.” So Jake’s last name is Horowitz.


End file.
